


hold me now (don't start shaking)

by webhead



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: (an attempt at slow burn at the very least), College Student Peter, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, For now ;), M/M, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pining, Slow Burn, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, it's EVENTUALLY mutual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webhead/pseuds/webhead
Summary: When Peter Parker, the esteemed, spectacular Spider-Man, met Wade Wilson, he hated his guts. Wade Wilson, the infamous Deadpool, on the other hand, has a thing for imagining himself and his web-slinging counterpart as the lead roles in romantic comedies.[Edited and revamped version of 'Love Comes Wearing Disguises']





	hold me now (don't start shaking)

**Author's Note:**

> After rereading Love Comes Wearing Disguises, and wanting to continue it, I soon found how many flaws and parts that I didn't like in it. So here I am, barbecue sauce on my titties, rewriting it despite the fact that literally nobody wants this and the same Spideypool fics/tropes get written daily. Title comes from Section 12 (Hold Me Now) by The Polyphonic Spree.

Peter's teeth clenched and he focused on debilitating the group of thugs who were now forming a crowd. A dumb, easy-to-handle crowd, but a crowd nonetheless. The slim hero expertly swung around the group, nailing a few kicks which resulted in a series of protesting grunts and satisfying _*thuds*_ as they hit the ground, smacking down on their backs.

Well, that was the plan, at least. Until Deadpool showed up. The mercenary was  _obnoxious_. He always killed mindlessly, humming an irritating little tune that always drilled right into the back of Peter's brain, driving him absolutely insane. This time, instead of Peter's original, elegant and deathless plan, Wade decided to step in, ramming sai knives repeatedly into the each thugs back. Peter winced, eyes clenching shut as blood spilled from the near-lifeless bodies, onto the damp concrete of the alleyway. He felt like he could throw up. Blood was never his strong point.

As the bodies fell, Peter was left simply standing there, arms crossed and shoulders tensed tightly as he tried not to double over and throw up. Wade just sheathed his daggers and hollered.

"Fuck--" the bloodied merc began, stretching briefly as he smiled to himself at the boxes, " _\--yes!_ Damn, Spidey, did you see that? Brutal! I  _love_ it! And yes, I am most  _definitely_ touching myself to--"

"Would you shut the hell up? God, for once in your life, would you mind just leaving me be?" The smaller male had finally snapped and his voice was rather shrill, as it was when he was angry. He was sick of Wade screwing everything up and taking all the credit. "God, you really are an idiot."

Wade raised his hands in defense, his eyes wide as he took a step back. "Whoa. Jesus, babe, shnookums, chill the fuck out, would you? Like damn, you're cute when you're mad, but less so when you're mad at  _me--_ "

"No! I'm sick to death of how you're always just  _here_! Would you quit being so obsessed with me for two whole minutes as to not get in my way so I can  _do my job?_ A-and don’t call me  _baby boy!_ It’s weird."

{Y: Hey.  _Psst._  Now would be a good time to cover up your self hate with laughter and crude jokes and--}  
[W: Good plan. You should definitely  _not_ tell Peter any aspect of the actual truth whatsoever.]  
{Y: Was that sarcasm?}  
[W:  _Not at all._ ]

“Would you two  _shut up_?” Wade mumbled at his boxes, and Peter raised an expectant and irritated eyebrow. Peter noticed the way Wade spoke to himself, it was hard not to, but he never brought it up. He assumed enough people gave the merc shit for his behaviour. Peter could easily pick on Wade without making him feel bad for some of his tics and clear mental health issues.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I'll lay off on taking over your jobs.” The merc raised a fist to Peter, with an expectant look, and got a look of  _'what are you doing with your fist in the air, Wade, you idiot'_ from Peter. "Man, come on. It's called a brofist! Ever heard of it? No? Okay."

To which the other responded, irritated and breathless, "Of  _course_ I know what a _goddamned_ brofist is. Ever heard of a little thing called inappropriate timing?" Peter stomped up close to Wade's masked face, anger and rage obvious even beneath the signature webbed mask. "No?" He lingered close to his face for a moment, frustration practically radiating from the boy. Wade stood there, still in shock at this sudden outburst from his favourite web-slinging super-boy, and unsure how to respond. Peter grumbled and shook his head, and after waiting a moment, took a few steps back in annoyance and defeat, shaking his head, "Forget it. Seeya 'round, Deadpool," he spat, and swung away, muttering something under his breath.

[W: Smooth, Wilson. Truly.]  
{Y: Whaddya say we skedaddle and jerk it tonight? Doesn't Webs know we just  _love_ being yelled at? Heh.}

"Shut the fuck up before I blow you both out again." That kept them quiet, aside from one quiet noise from Yellow at the obvious _'blowing'_ euphemism.

Wade slunk away, back to his mess of an apartment, frowning to himself and thinking. His thoughts drifted to all the times he'd jerked off to thoughts of Peter – how could he not? His suit was tight, accentuating each curve and valley of his fit body. He thought about how awful he himself was, and how good it felt to let all his self hatred slip away for a moment as his hands unevenly jerked, his breathing ragged and eyes clenched and a guttural moan emerging, his back arched as he finally– oh _god_ did he have it bad for that goody two shoes hero. But the feelings of bliss never lasted long; there was always underlying guilt and sadness as he cleaned himself up. He was pathetic, he knew that, but he couldn't help it.

Maybe he'd order in, kick his legs up and watch some crappy movie on Netflix. Sometimes, when he was feeling _especially_ pathetic, he'd turn on one of those generic, shitty, trope-filled rom-coms and imagine the leads as Peter and himself. God, he was an embarrassment. An embarrassment that had it _sofuckingbad_ for Spider-Man. Spider-Man's ass. Ass. In general. So what if his hand slid down _there_ tonight? Maybe he'd tidy up and give Cable a call again. Anything for a bit of attention, affection -- no,  _hard love --_ and a means of getting Peter out of his brain for a little while.

 

* * *

 

It took Peter two weeks to encounter Wade again, and he wished he could say those weeks were peaceful.

He shot awake, sitting in bed straight up. A brief touch to his forehead was enough to feel sweat beading up, and so he promptly wiped it off with the back of his hand.  _ Breathe, _  he reminded himself, almost as if he’d forgotten how.  _ Just breathe. It’s not that hard. Come on Peter, just-- _

Peter groaned, slowly regaining breath, as he willed his limbs to stop shaking. It was the fifth night in a row that he’d struggled to get to sleep, or woken up in the middle of the night with terror. The same reoccurring dreams plagued him night after night, reminding him of all that he’d lost. Revisiting his friends, family and lovers dying. He was just so  _ exhausted _ . Not just physically, but emotionally. Peter wasn’t attentive at work, in his lectures, and possibly the most dangerous part; he wasn’t attentive during fights. He was getting hurt more and more and he almost liked it, found it as a sort of deserved punishment for all the pain he’d inflicted on everyone else. It was only fair, right?

Blaring red numbers on his alarm clock blinked back at him. Zero two colon zero seven. Two in the goddamn morning. The brunette huffed, and shifted to the side of his bed, fumbling through the darkness for his bedside lamp.  _ Breathe. Breathe. In and out. It’s not that goddamned hard, Peter.  _ He steadied himself, hands pressing down on his knees as he leaned forward, shoulders slumping. And although it had taken him so long to get to even this point, the next moment, all at once, he was out of bed and pulling on his suit. He needed a release of sorts, and swinging through the city gave him a rush like no other. And, well, n ightmares couldn’t touch him when he was out flying around Queens. Well, most nightmares at least. There were still villains, and thugs, and--

“Spidey!” he heard, from the same familiar voice of that damn mercenary. Speak of the devil. That voice was unmistakable. Peter willed himself to ignore Deadpool. He was  _ not  _ in the mood for this. “Are you there, Spider-Man? It’s me, Margaret!”

“Not in the mood, Wade.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetums! You’re never in the mood. Lighten up! Live a little!”

Peter turned around at that, arms folded as he glared into that stupid  red and black mask.

“I’m really not in the mood tonight.” He hoped his voice read sincerity and sternness, but it probably just dripped with pain and exhaustion. Which means Wade would worry. And that would just make  _ everything  _ infinitely worse.

“Aw, babydoll--”

“Don’t call me that. Enough with the pet names. I’m fed up.”

“Okay, okay, no pet names. How about junk food? If you won’t let me reassure you with cute names, could I shout you dinner? Have you eaten? It’s like half past two.”

“If I agree to junk food, will you leave me alone?”

Wade grinned widely at that, and slung an arm around the other hero’s shoulders. “You’re in good hands, Spidey! Trust me, I know the best places all around town. Just you wait!” he exclaimed, choosing to ignore the bit about leaving Peter alone. Peter ignored it too, and just went along with it. Free food had him sold.

***

The thought of company tonight had repulsed Peter. Especially from… ugh. Deadpool. They'd grabbed Mexican. Wade's choice, as it was his shout, and they sat atop some more or less desolate building. Peter stared at the half masked face sitting beside him, chowing down on his refried bean burritos. The smell of his Mexican felt like a punch to the face and the sight of crumbs flying everywhere and smearing all over his mouth was oddly reminiscent of Cookie Monster. If Cookie Monster was a living trainwreck, that is. Peter couldn’t look away. Horrific.

“So, tell me,” Wade began, and Peter was glad he was only uttering the smallest and easiest to understand phrase possible right now because God, did Wade really not know how to finish a mouthful before speaking? “What brings Little Mister Spidey out this late? Didn’tcha parents ever set you a curfew?”

Peter tensed up minutely and looked away, down over the edge of the building. Disclosing his feelings and thoughts was not his forte. He avoided it at all costs, and he considered changing that now, but there were a million alarms blaring in his head. A  _ huge _  sign. Deadpool’s face with sirens and flashing lights on top, the words DO NOT TRUST written in beaming red letters with a large cross over his face. Thanks, subconscious.

“I agreed to this for the food.  _ Not  _ for a therapy session,” the webslinger quipped, and in a quick moment he was pulling the bottom of his mask back down over his lips, tucking it into his suit. “I’m not feeling up to this tonight.”

“Hey!” he heard Wade call out but he was already gone, his leftover taco abandoned beside Wade as he flung himself down, swiftly shooting a web and hoisting himself through the bright city lights.

[W: Look at you go! Fucking up again. Give it a rest, Wilson. You’re  _ never _  going to do right by him.]

“I will,” Wade spat, sitting there and letting the weight of White’s words wash over him, riding the wave of Peter’s feelings and statements. “I can make this right. I  _ can _  do right by him and I fucking  _ will. _  If Ryan Reynolds can finally star in a good superhero franchise then god  _ dammit _  I can be a hero!”

{Y: Heh. Whatever.}  
[W: I'd like to see you try.]

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me to actually update this time on Tumblr over at thwip.co.vu ;D


End file.
